Insomnia: A Good Thing, Really
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: Shawn doesn't think before he speaks and this time there are consequences. ShawnJuliet


_Thank you to Jen Bachand and her super powers... which she uses only for good. _

* * *

  
Two-thirty in the morning.

And he still wasn't asleep.

Flailing, Shawn fidgeted under the heavy comforter, huffing out a sigh and he rolled over to his right side heavily. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight, there would be no slumber, no rest, he'd go without shut-eye.

Mentally, he flipped through the contra of synonyms that were known to him, hoping to substitute them for the more traditional 'sleep'. After seven or eight, he was fed-up again and tossed onto his left side, his legs becoming tethered within the blankets.

This didn't happen often; things didn't weigh on his mind. Rather, Shawn Spencer had become adept at shrugging them off, forgetting about them. Even some of his more embarrassing moments hadn't weighed this heavily on his conscious... except perhaps the time he jumped into the rhino pen at the zoo and had to be carried out by security guards.

Yeah, that was pretty embarrassing. But nothing like this.

This, this was just horrible.

Screwing up his eyes, Shawn once against tossed himself on his back, flinging the covers off of his body as he did so. The cold sweat that tended to accompany sleepless nights had just begun to prickle up on his body, making the air seem much cooler than it actually was.

Perhaps a warm shower, some warm milk, other... warm things... would help him to sleep. But he didn't have any milk and the prospect of a shower turned him off more at the moment than anything. He wasn't in the mood for soap...

Two-thirty seven and his eyes were bloodshot but not heavy, an espresso current seemingly winding its way through his veins while an imaginary game of pong kept his mind alert and on the brink. In his stomach, unfamiliar waves of nausea and apprehension coiled and collided, churning, serving to keep him on edge.

Anxiety had long-since bubbled over and squeezed his heart, making him feel helpless and restless all at once.

Normally he flew by the seat of his pants, said things as they came to him, didn't doubt and didn't look back. This was horrendous. Inconceivable. Ridiculous. And oh-so-embarrassing.

The thing was, there was no one to realize he was embarrassed... or why for that matter.

A simple misunderstanding that he had let go uncorrected, and now he felt like a fool. Pulling the lime green down comforter over his head and sat up abruptly, pulling it out from its secure space tucked between the mattress and the box spring.

And like a monk, preparing himself for self flagellation, he pulled the heavy covering securely around his body, slumped his shoulders, looked at the ground and padded out into his modest kitchen.

There was nothing that held particular interest for him in the kitchen and he wasn't hungry, but he poured himself a glass of orange juice anyway and sat down at the table. Gentle sounds from the outside-cars, laughter floating on the breeze, the delicate rumble of thunder in the distance-and the ticking of the wall clock were the only noises that invaded the silence.

Head still hung, he sipped his juice and wondered why he allowed himself to say such foolish things.

Sure, he'd said something like it, close to it... a few times in his life, but he'd never really meant it. Then again, those times he'd said it, he was rewarded with carnal indulgence or a pardon for some specific wrongdoing. He'd never said it without thinking about it, without planning out the method of usage, without carefully considering the benefits that it would bring him.

His head slumped down even further and he allowed it to thump loudly on the table, vibrating the glass of orange juice close to the edge. 'Why did I tell her that I'm in love with her,' he groaned, audibly.

'And why, really why... did she think I was kidding?' He groaned again, allowing his fist to slam against the table; the glass of juice careened to the floor, fracturing into tiny pieces. He paid the mess no mind and instead knocked his head against the hard wood one more time for good measure.

Rolling his head until his cheek rested against the cool wood, Shawn cracked his eyes open, his line of vision at just the right angle to glimpse the photos on his refrigerator.

He and Gus dressed as Obi Wan and Luke Skywalker.

He-ten years old-and his father camping.

Margaret Thatcher.

He, Gus, Juliet and Buzz at an unapproved Christmas party, all a little tipsy. And he with his hand firmly around Jules's waist.

Allowing his eyes to slip closed once more; Shawn again berated himself for being such a fool.

About to trudge back into his bedroom (whilst avoiding the shards of glass on the floor) he cast one last lingering glance at the photo on the fridge before rolling his eyes, having a brief chuckle at his bad luck and walking away.

Resigning himself once more to bed, Shawn climbed in, cocooning himself within his comforter as he sought vehemently to sleep. Just as he began to creep up on the divide between awake and asleep, he distantly heard a faint buzzing.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Buzz, buzz, buzz

Reaching over to his bedside table, he retrieved the vibrating cell phone, flipping it open and holding it up to his ear. Before he could properly greet the caller, she was speaking.

"I laugh when I'm nervous," she spit out, the voice quavering. "So technically I should be laughing now..."

There was an awkward silence before he spoke. "Jules, what are you-"

"No one's ever said that to me before so..." Again, with the quavering voice; his lips jumped upward a little at the sound.

Considering his next words carefully (to confess, or not to confess, to confess, not to confess) he eventually came up with,

"Well, I've never said it to anyone... so I guess we're in the same boat.

Again, Juliet laughed nervously and he could hear her shifting around on the other end of the line. "Yeah, hah, same uh, same..."

"Speaking of boats... do you like sailing?" he said without thinking, but this time, he was confident that things would work out for the better.

"What? Shawn-"

"I just figured that since you and I are in the same boat we could... be in the same boat." It came out with more confidence that he thought he had.

The silence that filled the line between them nearly scared him, nearly had him coming up with a witty remark, an out, but finally she simply said, "Okay."

And that was that.

It was two forty-nine in the morning.

And he slept.


End file.
